DARKNESS VISIBLE

by

PiperMerlyn

Chapter 3

The Chapters

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen for a split second and then the room was plunged into darkness once more. Joe took a deep breath. "Frank?" he called out, just as thunder rumbled above them.

"Hold on, I'm looking for candles and matches."

"Considering what you found in the pantry, be careful with the drawers."

"Ha, that was so funny, I forgot to laugh."

Lightning  flashed again and Joe saw his brother over by the counter. Amid the growl of thunder, he heard his brother rummaging. Suddenly, the rasp of a match and the flare of a tiny orange flame, and Joe sighed softly. "Talk about pitch-black. Anymore candles?"

"No. I found a flashlight." There was a click and a dim circle of light appeared.

Joe made his way to his brother and took the flashlight, only to nearly drop it, when they both heard a loud creaking sound. They turned to see Vlad in the doorway to the kitchen, a candelabra in one hand, the five candles flickering wildly. "Do you wish more light?"

Joe grunted and looked around the dark kitchen. "It would help."

Frank nudged his brother hard. "Behave," he whispered.

"The master suggests returning you to your rooms until the current has been restored."

"What happened?" asked Joe.

"Unknown. If the master thinks it necessary to inform you, I will. This way please."

"We haven't had dessert yet," said Joe, despite another nudge from Frank. "I  always have to have dessert after supper."

"Joe," said Frank, nudging his brother harder. "Move."

Joe shot Frank a hard look but moved, following Vlad out of the kitchen and into the corridor. The man studied them for a moment. "Do you wish a guide to your rooms?"

Frank started to answer but Joe shook his head. "No, I've got an excellent sense of direction." Joe tugged on his brother's shirt and started up the stairway. "Come on, bro."

Frank muttered something under his breath but let Joe lead him up the stairs and toward their rooms. The moment they reached the door to his room, he turned on Joe. "What are you up to?"

"Shh, let Lurch down there think we're going to our rooms, meek as lambs." Joe opened the door, winced at the creaking sound and pushed Frank through, following right behind him. He shut the door, held up a hand and put an ear close to the wood. After a moment, he stepped away from the door. "Okay."

Frank rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"There was blood in that bottle, Frank. Why would someone have blood in a bottle?"

Frank frowned. "Joe, come on, vampires? No. That works in movies and on TV but real life?" He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. "No."

Joe sighed. "What about Duncan? He's real."

"He's not a vampire. And we just had this discussion."

Joe refused to let it go. "But we never thought Immortals were real either."

Frank shook his head again. "We didn't even know Immortals existed."

"You're missing my point."

Frank looked over at his brother. "That kind of thinking doesn't necessarily ring true in everything, Joe. For one thing, it's like comparing apples and oranges."

"Ah, but they're both fruit. Apples and oranges are sub-sets of the original set."

Frank groaned. "I thought math wasn't your favorite subject."

"It grows on you."

"Joe."

"What?" Joe pulled out the ladder-back chair and sat down. "Frank, nobody keeps blood in the pantry. For one thing, blood can spoil. That's why blood banks keep the stuff refrigerated."

"Then it can't be blood. If it were, they'd keep it in the fridge."

"Unless, they moved it temporarily." Joe nodded. "Of course. They knew we were coming, so they moved it." He nodded again. "And ten to one, when we go back down there in a minute – and we are – none of it will be there. Just like in every classic horror movie."

Frank stood up and walked over to his suitcase. "No we're not. I'm getting ready for bed."

Joe frowned, it finally dawning on him what was wrong. "Frank," he said in a low voice. "The lamp is on."

Frank turned to look at the lamp and then glanced at his brother. "But the kitchen and the hallway were dark."

"Fuse. Someone tripped a breaker." Joe jumped up. "They must have overheard us and tripped the breaker to get us out of there."

Frank started to disagree but what Joe said made sense. He took a deep breath. "All right. Then we go back down there and check it out."

"It won't be there, Frank. I'm telling you."

"Joe, I wouldn't call those movies you watched last night classic in any sense of the word."

"Not those. I'm talking real classics. Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein – saw it again on the old movie network a few days ago."

Frank stared at his brother and then shook his head. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Aw, you know you love me."

Frank shot his brother a look and started for the door when they both heard a blood-curdling scream. Joe swallowed hard. "The next time someone volunteers us for something, I'll knock that person into next year."

Frank hurried out of his room, Joe on his heels. They rushed down to the first floor to find candles burning everywhere. Fiala stood in the middle of the large foyer, staring at something on the floor.

The brothers continued down the stairs to see what it was. As they got closer and realized it was a body, they feared the worst until they heard a faint groan.

It was Walter, lying in a pool of his own blood, a wooden stake in his shoulder. Vlad seemed to appear out of nowhere to announce he'd contacted the medical personnel.

Joe swallowed hard. "What happened? Why'd somebody do that?"

"Because someone mistook Walter for me," said Dorian Thayer, sounding unsettled. "Fiala..."

Her whole body stiffened and she whirled on Dorian. "Do not presume to dictate to me, Dorian. I am no longer that innocent waif who allowed my parents, the queen and everyone else to order me around." For the briefest of moments, her anger-laden voice sounded more British than Romanian. "No. I will not leave."

"He will stop at nothing," said Dorian sounding rather exhausted. "Nothing. He comes in at will, injures my closest companions. I do not wish to lose you again...A – Fiala."

She turned away from him, shaking ever so slightly. Frank couldn't help but wonder if it was more anger than anything else. "What's going on?"

Everyone turned to look at him and Joe. Vlad looked rather panicked. "Master, I..."

Dorian held up a hand. "It's all right, Vlad." He looked at the brothers somberly. "Duncan told me you know about him."

Joe nodded. "We do."

Dorian lowered his head to stare at the parquet floor. "Follow me, please." He headed back to his study and the boys trailed after him. Once they were in the room and the door closed, Dorian turned to gaze at them for a long moment. He finally gave a tight smile. "You remind me of someone..." he said, nodding to Joe. "In the end, he was trustworthy as well."

"Who?" asked Joe.

"I don't  recall. The name he used here wasn't his own." Dorian moved to sit behind the desk, changed his mind and started for the windows, where the storm still raged in all its fury. Suddenly, he bypassed the window and slumped down on the sofa. "Please sit down."

Joe arched an eyebrow but took the chair again, Frank sitting in the other one. "Okay, what's going on?"

Dorian didn't answer right away. Finally, after a long moment, just before Joe asked his question again, Dorian heaved a sigh. "It's a long story, mind you." A sad expression crossed his face. "It all started with a girl..." He stared down at his hands and sighed again, more heavily, as if the weight of the world – or perhaps history – were on his broad shoulders. "Isn't it always?" he asked softly, barely above a whisper.

Frank and Joe shared a puzzled look. Frank looked ready to ask who the girl was, when Dorian started speaking softly, as if from a far distance. "I'd seen her from afar. Beautiful, willful...she intrigued me from the beginning...Her views on women, on marriage, courtship were modern, nearly scandalous at the time..."

He shifted in his seat. "It was those very views that had her parents in a tizzy, fearing she'd never marry into wealth. No wealthy man, they thought, would want a willful wife. But Aubrey intrigued me like no other. I was new to the season, having only arrived in London."

Dorian shifted his gaze, watched the lightning for a moment, the heavy downpour of rain, splatting against the window. "I'm sure her parents had set their sights higher than me. I had a little money, but not a huge estate, or title. But everything changed...and I lost everything."

Frank frowned. "I'm sorry."

"The estate, the money, the title was naught. I'd never cared for any of it. It was her." As he spoke, his accent became more and more British. "It was Aubrey that I lost and it ripped my heart out, shredded it to pieces." Dorian swallowed hard and nodded to the far wall. "She'd become my world in just a few short months."

The brothers turned to see an oil painting – a portrait – hanging on that wall. In the distance, they heard the unique two-tone siren most European ambulances had. Joe got up to walk closer to the painting. It was of a woman clad in a high-necked dress that in the dim light could have been lavender or a soft pink. Her dark hair was piled on her head and it held a hint of red. Her eyes were brown and held a mischievous look. Joe felt a frisson of familiarity. She looked like someone. "She's beautiful."

Dorian gave a jerky nod. "Yes, she is." He shifted in his seat again, as if he were nervous. "I learned in time to deal with my...situation. I believed I'd lost Aubrey forever but three years ago...she came back."

Joe studied the painting a moment longer and then looked over at Dorian. "Why she'd choose such an old-fashioned dress to be painted in?"

Frank narrowed his eyes. Dorian obviously wasn't explaining everything. "How long ago did all this happen?" he asked in the sudden silence.

Dorian looked at him and sucked in a breath. "Long before you were born. Long before your grandparents were born."

Joe abandoned the painting and reclaimed his chair, groaning loudly. "Oh no. Someone else who believes in reincarn—" His eyes went wide. "You're Immortal too, like Duncan?" he asked softly.

"Yes and no. I am not like Duncan."

Frank shook his head. "Then what—?"

Dorian let out a long sigh. "I am a vampire."

Joe frowned. "That's not very funny."

"I'm not laughing," countered Dorian.

"Vampires cannot exist," stated Frank. "It's physically impossible."

"Is it?" asked Dorian in a weary voice. "You seem so sure of yourself," he added, just a thread of warning in his voice now.

Joe got to his feet and backed away from Dorian. "Whatever you are or are not, I'm leaving."

"Sit down," ordered Dorian, a hint of anger in his tone.

Joe backed up only to collide with someone. He spun around to find Fiala standing directly behind him. He studied her heart-shaped face, the long dark auburn hair, brown eyes and then glanced at the painting again. His eyes widened as realization dawned. "You're Aubrey."

"In another lifetime," she conceded, with a regal nod of her head.

Joe sensed more than heard movement behind him, just as he heard Frank say, "Stop it."

Joe spun around to find Dorian right behind him. Joe wanted to step back but Fiala didn't move. Joe swallowed hard. "Okay, just so you know, scare tactics don't work with me."

Dorian gave him a tight closed lipped smile. "There is no benefit to me to frighten you." He spread his arms wide and stepped back, giving Joe some space. "No benefit at all, especially when I must ask for your help."

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